


my youth is yours

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Again again, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gap Filler, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, M/M, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Sorry again, Weird Fluff, Weird Plot Shit, ack, and almost the end of haikyuu, emfjdjfjdfs], filler fic, i did this over the span of 3 days, i wasn't thinking when i wrote this, i'm just storytelling in tags sorry, inspired by amvs, it's almost oikawa's birthday, my brain is slushy, nonsense shit, so i did this, sorry - Freeform, this makes. absolutely no sense, uwu, what the fuck, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Halfway into the movie, Iwaizumi falls asleep on Oikawa's chest.He smells like fabric softener and peppermint, and Oikawa resists the blatant urge to card a hand through his dark chocolate hair.The alien onscreen vanishes in a swirl of vortex, and Oikawa yawns, shifting to accommodate Iwaizumi's weight.He lets Iwaizumi wrap his arms around him anyway, the warmth making him feel drowsy.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	my youth is yours

**Author's Note:**

> sorry guys this is. actually ass. i just melted into mush because of this [amv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEJDsM5vyVE) and began crying over this ship and troye sivan
> 
> iwaoi makes me,,, soft,,. anyways this was heavily inspired by tothemoon's work so thank u so much to them aaa <3 basically just drabbles thrown together in a mushy lump i am sorry
> 
> please excuse the bullshit summary 🥺
> 
> i hope u enjoy reading! kudos, bookmarks, and comments are appreciated <3
> 
> \- renae  
> ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ 🕊༶⋆˙⊹

**_i. when the lights start flashing (tokyo subway)_ **

"Tell me why we're doing this again," Iwaizumi says in disbelief, dragged along by Oikawa Tooru.

The latter grins back at him, raising a hand to his forehead in a playful salute. "Don't you want to have memories? You managed not to puke on the Devil's Drop this time!"

Iwaizumi glares at him, and it's met with murmurs of "gomen, gomen, gomen", but it's true; he did manage to keep his stomach in control. Unlike all the other times they've gone. And this is routine, this happens every time they go to the annual Tokyo fair. He should be used to it by now.

Oikawa's fingers are digging in his wrist by now, and he tries to pull away. "I can walk on my own!"

"But then you could try running away from me!"

His forearm really is starting to ache. He pinches the part of Oikawa's wrist he can reach, scowling. Oikawa squeals and finally, mercifully, lets go of his wrist.

Iwaizumi rubs it reflexively, and in any other circumstance, he'd do exactly what Oikawa was afraid of; probably running away and taking the train back to Miyagi. But this is different, so he chastises himself to keep walking.

They turn the corner and there it is, the infamous photo booth.

It's a white box, with the word "photo" in neon letters over the top, the "h" flickering wildly. A string of fairy lights adorns the sign.

Oikawa pushes Iwaizumi in the cramped space, much to Iwaizumi's irritation. It seems that no matter how many times he tells Oikawa that he "can do things myself", Oikawa doesn't understand. He tugs the dark curtain closed, rubbing his black Converse sneakers on the squeaky floor of the booth.

Oikawa is fiddling with the touchscreen, putting 300 yen in, practicing his best smile. He climbs in after a minute, practically glowing with excitement, and Iwaizumi resists the urge to kick him.

"You should smile, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa says, nudging Iwaizumi's shoulder. "You never smile in our photos."

"Because you're in them," Iwaizumi mutters, but he flashes a smirk at the camera anyway.

"Mean, Iwa-chan!"

The shutter goes off, and Iwaizumi's lips twitch as he flinches, bumping his head against the back wall of the booth.

When they board the train back to Miyagi, Oikawa shows Iwaizumi the strip of pictures, and he has to laugh; his face looks contorted in between pain and smugness, and Oikawa isn't even looking at the camera, laughing at him.

Oikawa has taken the liberty to edit them, too; the date is scrawled in the top left corner in a font best described as "Cute Love", but there're pink and white hearts floating above their heads, and even little sparkle emojis.

Neither of them make it a point to mention Oikawa's choice of design.

**_ii. we'll be fireproof (after match with karasuno, sidewalk)_ **

The moon shines brightly that night, trees rustling in the cool evening breeze. The stars are twinkling out already, fiery white against the cold blue.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa walk home together in silence. They walk past two convenience stores, the children's playground, and five lampposts on the same street until Iwaizumi breaks it.

"You probably won't be happy until you become an old man."

"What?! What kind of curse are you placing all of a sudden?!"

A moment's pause. Then,

"Regardless of whatever tournament you win, you'll live chasing volleyball your whole life without being perfectly content, 'cause you're a real troublesome guy."

"Don't stick an insult in there at a time like this," Oikawa says, sounding affronted.

"But..."

Oikawa raises an eyebrow.

"Keep moving forward without hesitation."

Iwaizumi stops walking underneath the sixth lamppost and turns to face Oikawa. Oikawa watches him carefully.

"You're my partner that I can be proud of and... a really incredible setter."

Oikawa's eyes widen at the sudden compliment. He can't tell if Iwaizumi is blushing. Definitely, his usually gruff voice is tinted with emotion.

"Even if the team changes from now on, that won't change."

Oikawa is speechless for a minute, mouth open slightly and unblinking.

"But when we compete, I'll take you down."

Oikawa stares at his best friend; slowly, as he comprehends it, he lowers his head in a laugh, facing Iwaizumi.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

And he fist bumps his best friend, tan against his pale knuckles.

They walk the same distance apart for the rest of the way, but they feel the closest they've ever been.

**_iii. tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls (oikawa's house)_ **

It's a strong downpour that Saturday afternoon. The weather reporters hadn't said the storm'd be that intense.

Oikawa is prepared, however. He's left a number of blankets on the living room couch, the new alien movie that came out in theaters last week is prepped on the television's USB file, and he's heating up buttery popcorn in the microwave. He expects the storm to be over halfway in the movie, or maybe right as it cuts to the end credits.

What he doesn't expect is for the doorbell to ring before it even starts.

Oikawa pauses in drinking a glass of water, the liquid tickling his upper lip. He debates leaving the intruder outside to freeze, and relents to peek first. Maybe it's his father home from work. His sister and mother are out shopping and won't be back for four more hours, so he sets the glass down and dries his hands on his red wool sweater.

He peeks through the fish-eye lens in the door and does a double take, because Iwaizumi is standing on his front porch, drenched. A dripping umbrella is tucked between his arms.

Oikawa pulls the door open slightly. "What are you doing here, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi opens his mouth as if to respond, then suddenly closes it, a faint pink spreading over his cheeks.

There's an awkward silence, Iwaizumi not saying anything, Oikawa waiting for him to do exactly that.

After two minutes of this, Oikawa nudges the door an inch closed, and Iwaizumi exhales in irritation.

"Pardon the intrusion," he mumbles under his breath. "Power's out at our house, and I wanted to watch that new alien movie you kept talking about."

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, because there was definitely an unsaid "with you". It hangs uncertainly in the air until Oikawa realizes that Iwaizumi might get sick.

"Fine, come in, Iwa-chan. You'll freeze out there."

Iwaizumi manages a gruff noise under his breath - probably "thanks" - and pushes his Converse sneakers off. Even his socks are dripping, and Oikawa mentally apologizes to the floor.

"Do you have extra clothes I could borrow?"

Oikawa nods. "In my room. Come on, Iwa-chan," he says, prodding Iwaizumi in the back.

Fifteen minutes later, Iwaizumi is dry and wearing an old navy blue hoodie and gray sweatpants. They're splitting a bottle of Coke, and the popcorn has somehow found its way on every untouched space of the coffee table.

The movie starts up, and Iwaizumi is all bundled up in a soft comforter. The air is crackling, cold, until Iwaizumi rolls his eyes seven minutes in and pulls Oikawa in the comforter, wrapping it up easily around the two of them.

Oikawa hides a smile in his fist.

* * *

Halfway into the movie, Iwaizumi falls asleep on Oikawa's chest.

He smells like fabric softener and peppermint, and Oikawa resists the blatant urge to card a hand through his dark chocolate hair.

The alien onscreen vanishes in a swirl of vortex, and Oikawa yawns, shifting to accommodate Iwaizumi's weight.

He lets Iwaizumi wrap his arms around him anyway, the warmth making him feel drowsy.

* * *

Oikawa wakes up with absolutely no clue what time it is.

The most he knows is this:

1) The movie is clearly over. Actually, it has been for a long time. The television is off and cold.

2) Iwaizumi is no longer there on the couch with him. The mess on the coffee table has been cleaned up, and the remaining soda has flattened.

3) The storm is over, leaving everything smelling like damp air with a whiff of acid and honeysuckle.

4) His wool sweater smells like peppermint and the undercurrents of Axe body spray.

Oikawa groans, pushing himself off the armrest of the couch. His head is pounding, and there's an ache in his chest where Iwaizumi's head had been.

When he goes up to his room to shower, the hoodie is neatly folded on his bed, a yellow Post-it note pinned to the collar.

_Thanks, Trashykawa._

**_iv. my youth, my youth is yours (playground)_ **

The toes Oikawa's sneakers skim the rough gravel of the children's playground. He shifts on the swing; the paint is peeling and it's very uncomfortable, but it's thrilling all the same, because he's missed being eight all over again.

He beams at Iwaizumi sitting across from him on a concrete bench. The distance between the swing set and the bench isn't far - maybe seven feet - and he swings upward, lifting his sneakers off the ground and back again.

"You'll get sick if you do that too much," Iwaizumi murmurs, looking up from his phone.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him. "There's no _too much_ of everything."

"Sure there is. How about when you spent your monthly allowance on that stupid water bottle?"

"It wasn't stupid! It was cute!"

Iwaizumi snickers. "Sure."

"You should try this, then. Being on a swing again," Oikawa says. It's a half-formed thought, but as he says it, a grin splits over his face.

Iwaizumi frowns at his expression. "No."

"Aw, come on! It'll be fun."

"It's childish. Which is why you're on it."

There's no real malice behind that insult, and it falls flat. Oikawa flashes a perky smile at him, swinging up again, almost kicking the gravel into Iwaizumi's face. The latter sputters, blinking fast and spitting out sand and profanities.

Oikawa giggles and nudges Iwaizumi's knee with the toe of his sneaker. "Come on."

"No."

"Hajime..."

It's no use, and Oikawa has to smile; whenever he draws the _e_ out like that, it's a lost battle for Iwaizumi.

A huff from the wing spiker, then, "Fine."

Iwaizumi gets up and pockets his phone in one fluid motion. Scowling at his teammate, he sits in the swing next to Oikawa.

Oikawa watches expectantly, and when it's clear that he's not leaving until Iwaizumi _does_ something, Iwaizumi sighs and swings upward.

After the third round, he gets noticeably higher, sneakers scuffing the ground with swirling dust.

Oikawa is smiling, but it's not one of amusement. He really is happy seeing his best friend like this, enjoying something with no filter, every once in a while.

The ache he's been feeling in his chest ever since that afternoon comes back with a pang.

Iwaizumi slows down considerably after a minute or two of swinging, and glares at Oikawa.

"Happy?"

"Yep," Oikawa says, popping the _p_. He stands up and Iwaizumi does the same.

Too late, Oikawa realizes they're too close for comfort.

Iwaizumi isn't breaking eye contact with him, and Oikawa feels that it's rude of him to be the one to do that.

They don't move any farther, that's for sure.

A squirrel pops out of the nearby bush, and the atmosphere dissipates into thin air, replaced by bulky awkwardness that feels too hard to get around.

They don't say anything to each other on the way home.

**_v. runaway now and forevermore (train to miyagi, five months later)_ **

"Iwa-chan?"

"Mm."

"You remember that time you came over to watch Vortex with me?" Oikawa sighs, leaning back into the blue plastic chair. "I miss that."

Iwaizumi looks up from the picture strip from the day's photo booth, puzzled. "Why would you miss it? I fell asleep halfway through, and when I woke up, you were too. Did you even finish it at some point?"

Oikawa pauses to remember. "No."

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue. "Why not?"

Oikawa doesn't say what he really thinks - _because it doesn't feel the same without you_ \- but it hangs in the air, and Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow.

"I can come over today again."

Splotches of red spread over Oikawa's cheeks. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. But, you know, I want to."

Oikawa is silent for a few minutes, a slow smile of trepidation making its way on his face. "We'll have to watch it in my room," he says cautiously, like this is a dealbreaker.

Iwaizumi's nod reassures him that it isn't.

* * *

In the evening, when they arrive, Ayame scowls at Oikawa. "You _idiot_ , Tooru, you should have _told_ me!"

Oikawa grins apologetically. "Why? I thought you were out with friends today?"

"I'm going to be! And you should tell me if you have your boyfriend over so I can get out of the house faster. God forbid you two do someth-"

"Ayame!" Oikawa snaps, the swirl of heat broiling in his stomach lifting to his face. "He's _not_ my boyfriend. We won't _do_ anything. We're just watching a movie today."

"By definition, that is _doing_ something, you moron, and I-"

"If you're going to get out of the house then go," Oikawa says, making shooing motions at his older sister. Ayame frowns and swings her white saddlebag over her shoulder as she exits, calling "You owe me, Tooru!" for the rest of the walk out.

Oikawa slams the front door shut.

When he goes back upstairs, Iwaizumi is on his bed cross-legged, in the same white T-shirt and jeans, but he's pulled the old navy blue hoodie over his top. _Oikawa's_ old navy blue hoodie.

Iwaizumi frowns at him, holding a pillow to his chest. Oikawa's laptop is open in front of him, and the movie is playing.

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa gasps, scrambling onto the bed. "You started it without me?!"

"Sorry," Iwaizumi says, not sounding very sorry. "We can play back if you like."

"No, it's okay," Oikawa sighs, pulling the same comforter from last time around himself. "I know this part."

And then there's a tug on the end of it; before Oikawa can properly react, Iwaizumi shoves himself under the comforter with him, hand grazing Oikawa's knee.

Oikawa bites his lip to stifle a laugh.

* * *

At least this time, the movie wasn't over.

Iwaizumi wakes up this time, with no idea what time it is. But Oikawa is there, head resting on Iwaizumi's shoulder and hair mussed up on the right, clinging to Iwaizumi's left arm like a very needy baby. Iwaizumi snickers, resisting the urge to wake Oikawa up brutally and tease him about it.

If past Iwaizumi was in this situation, he would've panicked and probably throw Oikawa off. He doesn't, though, because he's drowsy and tired and he wants the warmth of his friend's body there next to his, fitting in all the right places. Blue light flickers over the lighter boy's face, flashing with pinks and greens and back to blues.

Oikawa mumbles something in his sleep, shifting and gripping Iwaizumi's sleeve tighter. "...'mnt."

"Hm?" Iwaizumi says, eyelids fluttering and about to close, burying his face in Oikawa's fluffy light brown hair.

It takes Oikawa an impressive two minutes to respond in a whisper, hand clutching the soft material of the hoodie.

"Peppermint."

* * *

The next morning, Oikawa wakes up with a headache.

He opens his eyes to a piercing pain in his skull between his eyes, and he moans, shuffling under the covers. But his foot collides with something as he stretches.

Something that, Oikawa notices, must have to do with the arm around his waist.

Oikawa inhales sharply, head dizzy and feeling way too light.

He doesn't. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't _want_ to, because Iwaizumi smells like that familiar combination of fabric softener and peppermint and warmth itself, the undercurrent of body heat rising off of him like an unsaid promise.

But imagine what Iwaizumi would say when he wakes up likes this. He'd probably never talk to him again.

Iwaizumi murmurs something into Oikawa's hair, shifting slightly.

"...you okay with this?"

Oikawa thinks that Iwaizumi must be asleep. A part of him wants to deny that Iwaizumi is doing this just because he wants to.

The most part of him tosses that rational part out the window, and he wants to indulge in this half-asleep state as long as he can.

Oikawa buries his face in Iwaizumi's shoulder and wraps his arms around the taller boy.

"Yeah."


End file.
